My own serious stuff; the craft itself; those who inspire me in it; the art of reading.
He was a man. Take him for all in all. I shall not look upon his like again. — William Shakespeare, Hamlet When I first moved into an Oakland apartment in 1986 with John Woods “Wheels” “Spoonhead” “Calvin Biggins” Wheeler,…
Mom in the drug store Called out to her son: “Brooklyn!” Am I getting old?
Scary loud gusts brush From the trees’ green-flowing hair Stray twigs and branches.
ELEVEN A. M., September the twenty-fifth — Rain hits Sonoma.
A BUOPOTH IS A STRANGE beast: some say it is half-composed of men’s dreams, others prefer not to speculate. But of the little that is known, one thing is certain: no matter what shape it takes, its eyes are the…
LET’S MAKE THIS AN EXPLORATION of the landscapes of creativity — how does the creative experience feel to you? Mentally, I’m all about visualization: perhaps it’s synesthesia, but even smells and sounds have a visual component for me. So I’ve…
HAD I NOT BEEN SWIFT, He would have brought the rat in. It’s the thought that counts.
PROSATIO SILBAN WAS NOT KNOWN for nothing as “The Cook For Any Price.” He had long ago foresworn the Sacreanthood and serving people’s souls for serving their bellies and letting the souls look after themselves. Yet every now and again,…
“MY NAME IS 010180,” SAID the friendly robot. “But you can call me 0.”
FOLLOWING ON THE INFORMATION REVEALED in “Who Is This Prosatio Silban, And What Does he Want?” here is a chart listing the Exilic Lands’ inhabitants. It’s meant as a quick reference rather than a last word. Attentive readers will recognize…
HE COULDN’T TELL WHETHER HE loved beauty or women more until the day he called his mom and said “Guess what? I’m marrying a sunset.”
THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF any story is the point at which it’s attached to the reader.
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